


Hymenated - Love Spell

by forlovedones



Series: The Hymenated Series [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam Winchester, Brothers, Canon Compliant, F/M, First Time, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Genderswap, Hermaphrodites, Humor, Hunter Castiel, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Magic, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 23:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20348269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forlovedones/pseuds/forlovedones
Summary: Sam's been roofied, and Dean can't take much more PDA.  Aren't love potions supposed to wear off?Teaser:Dean breathed in the musty smell of cheap hotel room.  He blinked open his eyes, alarmed, and crossed them to focus on long brown bangs.  The kiss broke with a loud smack as he jerked back.  “Sa…Sam?”“Dean,” Sam said in an entirely unbrotherly way, deep in his chest.“The hell’s going–did you just kiss me?”Sam was on all fours practically on top of Dean, and looked pale and shaky.  “Yeah.  Think it’s… think it’s a love spell, maybe.”  Then he fell forward onto his elbows around Dean’s head and kissed him again, this time getting his teeth on Dean’s bottom lip.(Part of a series of one-shots with a common theme, written because I have a very specific kink: canon-compliant Winchesters with magical girl bits. No boobs, no cross dressing, just the lower fun parts. ... Yes I am ashamed. Enjoy! :D)





	Hymenated - Love Spell

Dean woke up to a kiss at the corner of his mouth and fingers in his short bedhead. He turned into it and kissed back muzzily, unwinding his arms from under his pillow with a twinge of sore muscles. Lisa must be in a good mood.

Lisa... wait.

Dean breathed in the musty smell of cheap hotel room. He blinked open his eyes, alarmed, and crossed them to focus on long brown bangs. The kiss broke with a loud smack as he jerked back. “Sa… _Sam?_”

“Dean,” Sam said in an entirely unbrotherly way, deep in his chest. He was in his pajama pants and nothing else, like he’d been when they went to bed – Dean glanced at the alarm clock – what, two hours ago? Only, Sam was supposed to be in his own bed. Why was he on Dean’s?

“The hell’s going–did you just kiss me?”

Sam was on all fours practically on top of Dean, and looked pale and shaky. “Yeah. Think it’s… think it’s a love spell, maybe.” Then he fell forward onto his elbows around Dean’s head and kissed him again, this time getting his teeth on Dean’s bottom lip.

Dean tore himself loose and shoved Sam off with both hands on his chest. Sam flopped back and Dean sprang to his feet beside the bed.

“Spell–what spell?”

Sam rolled back to his knees on the bed, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He was breathing a bit fast. “Donno. Just… I woke up and–god Dean–you’re so attractive, you know that?”

Dean felt naked in just his boxers.

Sam’s gaze was hot. “You’re beautiful. And so damn smart, and funny, and kind,” he shifted forward, unfolding his legs.

Dean could feel his face burning. Okay, yeah, definitely a spell – or…

Sam stood and reached for Dean, cupping his face with both hands, staring into his eyes. “I just want you, so bad. Super bad.” He leaned in.

“Christo,” Dean said.

Sam blinked. “Huh?”

“Omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-”

Sam snorted. “I’m not possessed, Dean!”

Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist, twisted him around, and pushed him down into the bed. Sam went down with a woosh of air, pinned with his arm behind his back and Dean on top. “Then you’re a shifter.” Dean groped around, looking for his knife.

Sam spit out blanket. “Or it’s a spell, moron!”

“From who? We were hunting vampires!” His arms were still sore from beheading the nest. Dean pulled open the end table drawer. There it was. He grabbed his silver knife. “Hold still.”

Sam struggled. “Dean come on – don’t cut me, it fucking hurts!”

“I said hold still Sam!” Dean put his knee in the small of Sam’s back to hold him in place, and stretched out the arm he planned to cut.

Sam seemed to give up with a moan. “God, so strong too – you’re so perfect-”

“Shut up shut up!” Dean grit his teeth and nicked Sam’s forearm with the blade. It didn’t sizzle.

“See? I’m me!”

Dean folded the blade one-handed and pushed down harder with his knee. “We’ll see about that.”

\---

Dean got his stupid brother handcuffed to the hotel chair and left him there as he tested him with silver, holy water, a mirror, consecrated wrought iron, borax soap, and communal ash.

Human then.

“Are you almost done?” Sam said in a whine that reminded Dean of his brother’s teen years. Said brother wouldn’t stop rolling his crotch around in the chair through the whole process, his erection pretty obvious through the thin gray pants.

“Alright you’re you. So it must be a spell.”

“I already told you that!”

“So there must be a hex bag.”

Sam groaned loudly. “Dean, come on…”

Dean began the painstaking process of tearing the hotel room apart.

\---

An hour later he still hadn’t found anything. He was running out of places to check. He stood in the middle of the room, looking around. Bags, mattresses, drawers, sink, pipes, pillows, lights, vent, smoke alarm…

“Dean,” Sam whined for the hundredth time.

“Alright maybe not a hex bag. Then it’s a roofie, like with Becky. Love potion maybe.” He tried to remember where they’d eaten last night, who might have slipped it.

“Dean-”

“Sam, I swear to god, if you don’t shut up-”

“No Dean… Dean something’s different, something’s wrong.” Sam was shifting even more now, dripping sweat.

“Alright, what is it?” Dean said, reluctantly looking at his brother again.

“I don’t know but… it’s my crotch. Something’s weird.”

“No duh. You’ve got a woody for your own brother, like an idiot.”

“No not just that, it’s – something else.”

“Something else.”

“Just – just check it? Please?”

“Sam, seriously? You’re tripped out your mind, you think I’m falling for this?”

“The hex bag,” Sam said quickly.

“What?”

“The hex bag. It could be in my pants. You haven’t checked there yet.”

“Oh come on…”

“Dean, please. Please.”

Well okay… it could be there. Dean edged forward carefully. “Swear to god if this is some sorta stupid get-laid trick…”

Sam’s eyebrows were all scrunched up in that way he does when he’s looking his most innocent. “It’s not Dean, I swear!” His legs were spread wide, inviting. “Just–just check.”

Dean leaned forward, slowly, and patted Sam’s pockets. “Nothing.”

“Dean!”

“Okay okay…” He patted each leg down, quickly, professionally. Nothing. He even checked Sam’s ankles under the long slouchy pajama pants; nothing strapped anywhere. He made the mistake of looking up then. He was level with Sam’s crotch. Sam was breathing hard again.

“Yeah. Yeah. Now look up at me Dean.” Dean looked up automatically and Sam groaned when they made eye contact.

Dean shot to his feet. “Alright that’s enough.”

“No Dean, wait – I’m sorry okay? Just- just check my crotch. Please. It feels weird. Something’s wrong.”

Dean sighed loudly. “Sam…”

“I mean it. Please. Dean, please!”

“Shit – alright, okay, just shut up!”

Sam shut up, and held really still as Dean reached out, watching through squinted eyes. He palmed Sam’s cock. It seemed normal.

Sam shuddered a breath he couldn’t seem to control. “Not there. Lower.”

“Shit shit shit…” Dean slid the hand lower and felt around. He didn’t feel a hex bag but… was there something… squishy down there? He pushed harder, forgetting his trepidation.

Sam panted, his knees shaking with the effort to hold still. “There. There.”

Whatever it was it felt familiar. A squishy mound, or two mounds side by side, sliding under his fingers, hot and… and damp?

Then he smelled it, a waft of something musky and salty. He definitely knew that. “Son of a bitch. Son of a _bitch!_” Dean grabbed Sam’s pants, yanking them down.

“What? What is it?”

Dean got the pants and boxers down together, and pushed Sam’s legs apart. No time for ceremony.

Under Sam’s dick, where there should have been nothing, there was a wet mound with a slit down the middle. His brother had a magic vagina between his legs.

A good one too. Clean and pink and swollen, surrounded by lean leg muscle and a curved, dusky pink dick-

Dean pushed the legs shut again.

“Well shit,” Sam said above him.

\---

Dean had Cas on the phone. He’d untied Sam and shoved him into the bathroom with his duffle, ordering him to dress.

“That does sound like a love potion,” the angel agreed.

“Right? It must be. But who would slip it to him? And when? We’ve been on take-out for a week!”

“I don’t know, Dean.”

“And how do we un-potion him? Becky’s wore off but – do all potions work like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well find out!” Dean barked.

“Dean.” Sam had come out of the bathroom. He looked at Dean reproachfully.

“Sorry – Sorry Cas. Just… could you start hitting the books for clues?”

“Of course,” the angel said with his usual patience.

“Good. Great. We’re on our way back… eight hours tops.” He flipped the phone shut and turned on his little brother. Sam was fully dressed, and waiting obediently. Maybe he was getting better?

“We should get going then,” Sam said.

“Right…” Dean turned and grabbed his own bag, and searched his pants for his keys. Sam was there when he turned back around, and gave Dean a quick peck on the mouth before Dean could stop him. Then Sam glanced shyly away and ducked out of the front door.

Dean could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. He followed Sam out.

\---

It took a few hundred miles for Dean to work up the nerve to glance at Sam. His Black Sabbath tape had clicked to the end five minutes ago, and the car was quiet. “How’re you feeling?”

Sam was awake, leaning his head against his window, watching Dean. He’d been watching him for hours. Dean could feel those eyes on him. “I don’t know… the same I guess.”

“Like you want to jump my bones?”

“It isn’t like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

Sam shifted in his seat. Dean stiffened, gripping the wheel tighter. “It’s like…” He sighed through his nose. “Dean you’re my brother.”

“Yeaah?” Dean dragged out.

“But I just don’t care. It’s like, it’s been just you and me for forever, right? And in a lot of ways… you’re everything to me.”

The car’s interior felt hot, and small.

Sam continued. “And I’ve done worse than this before to keep you with me right? I just… look at you and think of us and I can’t help it. I love you. I always have?” He shifted his knee up onto the bench seat, dangerously near to Dean’s thigh.

“Sam… I meant your–your crotch. How do you feel?”

“Oh. The same. It’s…” Sam stretched and his knee and shin pressed against Dean. “...throbbing.” He sighed breathily. “It feels really good. Like… warm. And deep. And I look at the freckles on your ear, and the way the sunrise is bleaching your hair and I think about maybe nibbling-”

Dean fumbled loudly with one hand for another tape and shoved it in unceremoniously without checking to see which one he’d grabbed, turning the volume knob all the way up. No no no no no.

\---

They made it back to the bunker after the longest eight hours of Dean’s life. Half the time Sam was his normal, lanky self, then the other half was soft confessions and hot looks and casual touches. Dean felt like jumping out of his own skin. Whatever this was, it definitely wasn’t wearing off.

“Cas? Cas!” Dean trotted down the stairs quickly. He didn’t hear Sam right behind him, but when they reached the bottom Sam spun him with a hand on his shoulder and pushed Dean up against the wall. He boxed Dean in on all sides, an elbow on the wall above Dean’s head. Damn he was tall.

Sam gazed into Dean’s eyes. “Dean…”

Dean glanced between Sam’s hazel ones, not daring to breathe.

Sam chuckled and put his forehead to Dean’s. “God you’re cute…”

“Sam-”

Sam tilted and kissed Dean gently, just small, light sucks on Dean’s mouth. “Cute… when you’re scared.” Sam was warm and soft, softer than Dean expected, or could remember from that morning…

“Sam? Dean?”

Sam didn’t stop. He licked at the corner of Dean’s mouth and shifted closer.

Dean shoved him off. “Cas!”

“Cas,” Sam said casually as way of greeting, his eyes still on Dean.

“So no improvement then,” Cas said with his best imitation of sarcasm.

\---

Research was… difficult, to say the least. Dean quickly gave up on trying to get Sam to keep his distance; whenever he started concentrating on what he was reading Sam would slip right back into his personal space, distracting him again. So he settled for making Sam sit in the chair right next to him, where Dean could keep track of him. His thigh was a warm presence Dean was getting used to.

“The problem is,” Cas had explained when they arrived, “there is too much to research. Love spells and love potions appear to be a very popular topic. I have these three stacks of research books,” he’d gestured to the volumes covering one of the tables in the archive room, “but there are shelves more, according to the indexing. Everything from aphrodisiacs to lubrication to fertility magics.”

And the only clue they had was Sam’s new… equipment. So Dean resolved not to leave his wooden chair until they figured this out. And Sam did help... just with breaks to rub Dean’s knee or neck or scalp in that way that Dean had always loved but didn’t think Sam knew about and resolved to just ignore him, just ignore him, just ignore him.

\---

“Dean. Dean.”

Dean shifted his head to the side, his hard pillow crinkling under him. “Mmm.”

“You should go to bed.”

“Mm.”

A hand ran over his back. “Or I might take advantage, you know.” The hand slid down lower, over Dean’s ass.

Dean didn’t jump this time; he was too tired. He did force an eye open though. Crap, he’d fallen asleep at the table. His face stuck as he pulled it away from his open book, book number… what…. twenty? “Sam, come on…”

“You come on. Come on, up.” Sam grabbed him under his arm to pull him up. Dean stood with a groan, popping his back. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

He was right. Dean glanced at Cas, and felt bad. “Sorry, Cas…”

“It’s alright, Dean,” Cas replied without looking up from his current book, “I will continue the search.”

“Great, see you in a few hours,” Sam said, pulling Dean from the room by his elbow.

“Sam, try not to molest your brother!” Cas called after them.

Dean was getting used to the shepherding. Was that bad? It seemed to help Sam to let him cross a few boundaries though, so Dean let his brother switch from his elbow to his hand, and lead him down the hall. “How are you feeling now?”

Dean’s room was closest. They were already there. Sam faced Dean, but didn’t release his hand. “You keep asking me that. I feel fine. Just…” He stretched his long fingers and interlocked them with Dean’s, his thumb rubbing the side of Dean’s hand.

God Dean couldn’t look him in the eye.

“I just, can’t help wondering,” Sam confessed softly. “How you’d feel.”

Dean looked up, deer in headlights.

“I mean all those girls, they always say…” Sam’s voice pitched deeper. “Say you’re the best. The best they ever had.

Dean could feel the heat in his face, burning in his ears. “Come on, that’s… I mean…”

“And I can’t help thinking–how many times will I have an opportunity like this? To be the Heads and the Tails, you know? How many people would give it a try if they could?”

Well true. It wasn’t like Dean hadn’t ever- “We could hit up a bar,” Dean reasoned, a bit desperately.

Sam winced at him. “What? No. I don’t want some stranger.” He shifted just a bit closer. “I never have. Hookups just… I’ve never really liked them. They’re lonely. And you and me, we’re such a good team. We’d be good at this too.”

“That’s the spell talking,” Dean reasoned, though it seemed like Sam to him.

“Maybe. Dean…” Sam nearly moaned his name. He shifted closer again. “You’d be gentle right? Show me how good it can be?” He pulled their connected hands down, and pushed into them. “See how… deep… this magic really goes? I’d let you.”

Jesus. Jesus Christ.

Sam didn’t wait for a reply. He was close enough to lean in and talk in Dean’s ear now. “I’m wet all the time. I’m thinking of trying my fingers tonight. Unless you...” His nose touched Dean’s hair.

Dean’s heart jumped into his throat and that was it. He wrenched away and escaped into his room, slamming the door behind him.

\---

Dean pulled at his cock, in his room, in his bed, alone, chanting “stop stop stop,” whenever his mind betrayed him and… wandered.

\---

His cell rang, waking him up the next morning. Dean groaned and answered. “‘Lo?”

“Dean.” It was Cas. “I found something.”

Cas was in the same chair he’d been in six hours earlier. Dean would have believed he hadn’t even moved if the books hadn’t all rearranged themselves on the table. Dean flopped down into the chair across from him. “Alright… whatcha got?”

Cas slid a relatively small book over to Dean. It was a worn stack of paper, bound with brackets, obviously formatted on an old typewriter. _Amatory Conspectus Vol. XVIII: Greek Mythology, Comprehensive. _“Alright…” Dean flipped the pages with a thumb. “What’s it mean?”

“It’s an index, compiling references to amorous Greek myths, specifically any myth that involves arcane or unnatural sexual manipulation.”

“Seriously?” Dean was exasperated. “These Men of Letters man… complete research kink nutbags.”

“Turn to page ninety-seven. Halfway down.”

Dean flipped, and read the bolded text. “540-30 BC, Ground Horn of the Ceryneian Hind; hermaphrodital effects. References…” There was a bullet list of four books and page numbers below there. “Okay. So…” He rubbed at his eye with a palm. God he needed caffeine.

“It’s referring to the Ceryneian Hind, a mystical female deer with golden male antlers from Greek history. It was a beautiful creature.”

Dean smelled coffee, his only warning before Sam leaned over and pecked a kiss on Dean’s temple, placing a hot mug next to his hand. “‘Morning.”

Dean made a happy groan and cupped the mug in his hands, glancing up at Sam. “Sneaky bastard.” Seriously, this spell must have given Sam ninja powers of some sort… he was sneaking up on Dean far too frequently for Dean’s paranoia.

“What? You love coffee.” He pulled a chair over next to Dean’s.

“Dean. Sam.” Cas called their attention back.

Dean looked back at the book. “Right, okay. So… mystical deer.”

“Yes. The Ceryneian Hind was featured in the Third Labor of Hercules, but it is a singular oddity that I believe still lives today. It has both male and female features, as well as gold antlers and brass hooves.”

Dean sipped at his coffee. “And?”

“And,” Cas went on with infinite patience, “this index implies consuming a portion of its golden antler, or perhaps using it as a spell ingredient, may cause men to turn into hermaphrodites.”

“Like Sammy.”

“Exactly.”

Sam didn’t look convinced. “What do you mean ‘lives today’? It’s just a myth; more likely it was just a reindeer the Greeks painted and paraded around.” Sam caught Dean’s confused look. “Female reindeer have antlers too.”

“Oh, right,” Dean said, “Vixen. The one with eyelashes.”

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes.

“That must be modern speculation,” Cas said, “but I assure you the Ceryneian Hind was real, and immortal. And its antlers do shed.”

“So these books,” Dean said, pointing at the list.

Cas sighed. “I could only find one of them. The other three are missing.”

“Missing?” Dean frowned. That was odd.

“Yes. But I did find this one, _Rumoured Relics of Greek Mythology and Greek Mysticisms; Locations, Embodiments, Provenances._”

“Okay so…” Dean slid his finger along his reference list, ignoring Sam’s hand on his knee. “Page CLXXIII… what?”

“One-seventy-three,” Sam and Cas said at the same time.

Cas was already opening the book. “It isn’t a very long passage. It just describes the ground horn to look like gold powder the consistency of black pepper, about nine ounces in weight, and traces its provenance history, updating the weight as bits of it are used. It's tracked from the 1830's to 1918, last in possession of…" he read the book. "Joseph McDonald-Baker; Negro; St. Louis, Missouri.”

Dean leaned forward. “He used…” he whistled. “Three whole ounces. Jeez.”

“That still leaves about one left,” Cas concluded.

Dean sat back. “But what does it matter? Is there mention of a cure in any of this?”

“Maybe there isn’t one,” Sam quipped in.

Dean pointed at his face. “You shut it.”

Cas looked down. “No… but it’s the only real reference I can find relating to Sam’s condition.”

Dean sighed and stood up. “Alright… Joseph McDonald-Baker. I’ll get the laptops.”

\---

Dean had been going to get a beer. Instead he had his ass pressed against the stainless steel counter while Sam wrapped a hand around his neck and licked the backs of his teeth. Either Sam was getting bolder, or the spell was getting stronger. It was hard to tell. Dean hadn’t lasted long in his determination to remain stoic, reciprocating just a little as Sam kissed deeper, breathing through his nose. It had been so long since Dean had anything like this and god, he was only human.

And really, it was just to help Sam calm down. Keep him… keep him saited.

Dean just hadn’t expected Sam to be so good at it, the way he rolled his head into each slow slide, his fingers playing with the nape of Dean’s hair. Making Dean’s chest swell with… with something.

Sam’s other hand had been on the counter, but Dean felt it slid under the edge of his shirt and breathed a gasp through his nose, pulling back.

The hand didn’t do more than slide back and forth along Dean’s hip, at the edge of Dean’s jeans. Sam begged with his eyes. “Dean please. Please.”

Dean had never said ‘no’ to Sam before. How was he supposed to learn how to now?

\---

Dean fought to concentrate on his laptop screen–sifting through fifty years of Census racist bullshit–instead of on Sam’s warm hand on his upper thigh, practically sliding into his pocket. Then it slid over the curve and between his legs and Dean had to breathe through his mouth as he shifted away for the hundredth time.

Cas said something. Dean took a bit too long to look up at him. “Hm?”

“I said I think I found him. Her.”

“You… what? You did?” Dean stood up and walked to Cas’ side of the table, partly to see and partly to get away from Sam’s hands. It didn’t do much good–Sam was right behind him, literally, leaning on his back.

Cas wasn’t on a laptop; the angel still wasn’t well versed in using one. Instead he was searching Men of Letters personnel records to see if he/she might be in them somewhere. “Josephine Baker, maiden name Joseph McDonald from St. Louis, Missouri. It looks like she visited this bunker in 1948. She’s listed as a credentialed visitor, subcategory: Witness to the Arcane. There’s a picture.” He showed a black and white photo of a young, pretty black woman with pencil eyebrows a 20’s bob cut.

“Josephine… Baker?” Dean recognized her. “No way… no way!” He went back to his laptop, pulling up Youtube.

“What?” Cas asked.

“She’s the banana girl – she’s famous!”

Sam snorted. “Banana what?”

“Dude, she’s like, the most famous 1920’s burlesque dancer ever. Don’t tell me you don’t know her.”

“Who knows crap like that?”

“Well educate yourself. Here.” Dean flipped the laptop around, and played an old, fuzzy, black and white video of a woman dancing in a jungle scene with a bunch of fake bananas for a skirt and not much else. “She’s magic. Look at those abs. Mm.”

“So she used to be a he then, huh?”

“Maybe there’s an extra banana in the bunch,” Dean snarked.

Cas seemed to have trouble looking away from the video. “Whatever the case… she visited here a few times in her 40’s, as a guest. It’s possible the last oddments of Ceryneian Horn are stored here, as well as a more detailed account of its effects or cures.”

Dean groaned, looking at the expanse of the archives, and thinking of the dozens of storage rooms down the hall. “Well if that’s the case… then that’s the good news.”

“Why?” Cas asked.

Sam answered. “Because then it’s only a matter of time before you find it.”

\---

Dean was sweaty, dusty and tired. He called it a day after his tenth time searching through index cards and tiny ingredients drawers on shelves and behind boxes and under piled furniture, only to come up with nothing each time. “Cas?”

“I will keep searching, Dean.”

Dean could kiss his friend. “Thanks man, you’re the best.” He stretched out his old spine as he left the room.

It wasn’t until he was leaving the shower that he realized he hadn’t seen Sam in like, an hour. He was suddenly aware that he had just a towel around his waist, and paused before leaving the communal bathroom to pull on his t-shirt and boxers.

He was glad he did when he found Sam; sprawled out on Dean’s bed, his face in Dean’s pillow and a hand down his pants.

The door fell shut behind Dean when he lost his grip on it. “Sam?”

Sam moaned and blinked in Dean’s direction. “Sorry… I’m sorry, Dean… I can’t help it.” He was obviously distressed, nearly sobbing as his hand continued to move under his jeans.

Dean tried to keep his eyes on Sam’s face. “It’s… it’s fine, Sam.”

“I just need you so bad,” Sam moaned.

“It’s fine,” Dean echoed dully. “I’ll just…” He meant to reach for the door but his arm didn’t move.

Sam looked over at him. “Dean?” His face was flushed, his eyes… hopeful?

Dean felt helpless, strung out, on the verge of giving in, looking at the curve of Sam’s back down to his ass in those jeans, and thinking of the possibility of having something… special.

But it wasn’t real. Sam wasn’t Sam right now. Right?

Then why was the way Sam’s expression slipped from hopeful to annoyed so damn familiar? The way his eyebrows and corner of his mouth pulled into that damned bitch face, like he could tell exactly what Dean was thinking.

“Dean.”

“Mm?” Dean grunted.

Sam flipped over onto his back and sat partway up. “Get over here, idiot.”

Dean took the few steps over and knelt on the bed. Sam put his legs on either side, his eyes on Dean’s face as he slid out that… that hand, with a small squelch that made Dean’s ears burn, and gripped the front of Dean’s shirt. Dean felt like maybe he might shiver as Sam pulled him forward, like he had Dean’s heart gripped in his hand instead. Dean's hands automatically fell on the headboard on either side of Sam’s head.

Sam pulled until their foreheads touched. It made Dean remember clutching him in the mud that day, watching Sam’s soul go, begging it to come back.

“It’s always been you, Dean; just you and me, against the world. Like you’re a part of me already. This doesn’t have to change anything.” He looked up at Dean through his bangs. “Can’t we… just try?”

“Sammy, this isn’t- you’re not really-” Dean started, when Sam slid his other hand down and gripped Dean’s erection through his boxers, hard. Dean gasped, ”You bitch!” and his control snapped.

He shoved Sam down into the pillows and dropped down on top of him, grabbing his hair with both hands, attacking his mouth. Sam seemed perfectly happy to let him, moaning into it wantonly, like a bitch, both hands on Dean’s dick like it was everything he ever wanted. Dean shoved his hips roughly into it, maybe a bit angry, maybe a bit desperate. “Teasing me for- fucking days-!” he growled, and humped harder. “Driving me crazy!”

“Yeah Dean–yeah!” Sam gasped, switching to undoing his jeans, wriggling out of them. Each wriggle rolling Dean’s dick around with incredible aim.

Dean sat up a bit, pulling off his shirt, throwing it away. “Gonna fuck you so hard-! Fuck this stupid spell shit right out of you!”

Sam moaned, kicking his jeans off the edge of the bed and spreading his legs. “Yeah- so wet, so wet for you Dean-” He was looking feverish again.

Dean grabbed Sam’s knees and spread them wider, his brother’s pink hole spread wide open between those toned, lithe legs. So flexible.

As Dean watched Sam reached down with a hand and slipped four fingers right in, curling them at the knuckle. “I’m–I’m ready, Dean, just-”

Dean moaned and pushed a finger in too, alongside Sam’s, reaching deeper than Sam could. It was so warm in there, and slippery. Sam thumped his head back at the feeling and Dean couldn’t wait anymore.

He felt desperate, unhinged. He pulled Sam’s hand out, pulled his own cock out of his boxers, lined up and pushed in, in so deep, like being swallowed alive. They gasped in unison. Dean felt Sam’s legs shaking.

“Sorry- sorry Sammy, are you-”

“Move,” Sam commanded, “Dean–move!”

Dean moaned and obeyed, hands sliding under the backs of Sam’s thighs and rolling his hips forward. Maybe it was all that muscle, or Sam’s size, but his virgin pussy felt like a vice sucking him in and gripping him tight as he fought to keep a rhythm, to make it good for Sam too.

It must have been good; Sam panted with each breath, and hooked his hands around Dean’s neck to play with his hair and scratch with dull nails each time Dean pushed in extra deep, extra hard.

“You like that Sammy? You like your big brother’s dick?”

Sam moaned and nodded.

“What’s it–what’s it like?”

“It’s,” Sam hissed and his ass clenched under Dean’s hands, “sensitive…” Dean felt him twitch around Dean’s cock, spasm inside as Dean moved with him, getting wetter. “Keep- keep cumming…”

“Not yet,” Dean growled, “but I’ll get you there.” He squeezed Sam’s thighs. “Gonna fuck your brains out.”

Sam’s mouth stretched open as he panted. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. “God yes–love you–love you so much-!”

Dean felt his face burning, not just from exertion. “Dude, come on…”

Sam’s voice was breathy. “Shut up, I do, so what? You’re mine anyway right? Have been- _mm-_ since forever!”

Okay so maybe it was a bit true, and maybe Dean kind of liked the idea. It made him feel a bit leaky as he fucked–just for now, just for a bit, maybe he could allow himself to believe it.

Sam wrapped his legs around, Dean’s, pulling him in. Dean shut his eyes and fucked harder, unable to stop himself, surrounded by Sam and his heat and his voice, like this was his whole world.

It took him a minute to realize something else was making noise too. He panted and blinked his eyes open, searching around with a hand before his brain caught up and told him his phone was ringing. It was on his pile of dirty clothes from the shower, near the foot of the bed. He picked it up and flipped it open without thinking. “Yeah?”

“Dean,” came Cas’ deep voice, “something is wrong.”

“Huh?” Dean answered intelligently, loving the way Sam’s arms squeezed when Dean pushed in just right. “Look I’ll call you-”

“I found the Ceryneian Horn–or, I found where it should be. It’s gone.”

“So?” Dean growled, not sure why that mattered right now.

“Dean, it’s gone. There are records here that say when it was stored and how much was left, but no record of it being used or moved. It should be here. Not only that, but it clearly states that the horn has no emotional effect on the user.”

“Just hang up,” Sam said in Dean’s other ear.

“Sam, shut up–what are you saying Cas?”

“I’m saying if it was used on Sam, whoever did it broke into the bunker and stole it first, in this decade. But nothing in it would make Sam fall in love with y-”

Sam’s hand closed around the phone, snapping it shut.

Dean shifted back to look at him, confused. “Sam?”

Sam flopped back on the bed, he legs still wrapped around Dean’s lower half. “Couldn’t we have at least finished? Cas is like a freaking bloodhound!”

“What?” Dean felt completely lost.

Sam sighed, and rubbed a hand down his mouth. “There was no love potion,” he confessed. “I lied.”

“You–what? But-”

“I mean I did use the horn, but I used it weeks ago.”

“But then…” Dean felt his face heating up again. “But why?”

“It seemed like a good plan. This way, if things didn’t work out–if you didn’t feel the same way–I could just pretend the potion wore off and everything would go back to normal.”

“You _what?_” Dean tried to sit up, but Sam crossed his legs around Dean’s ass and pulled him back in, seating his hard cock deep in that magic pussy.

“Yeah.” Sam put his hands back in Dean’s hair. “I thought I’d have more time though. I mean I hid all the reference books I could find about the horn. I didn’t know the ones that Cas found even existed.” He pulled Dean’s face down closer to his. “But I guess I didn’t need to work so hard. It only took a few hours to see you’re nuts for me too. You’ve had an erection for days!”

Dean could feel his mouth hanging open. He snapped it shut. “You goddamn- _bitch!_ This whole time- groping me like a piece of meat!”

Sam actually laughed. “You should have seen your face man-”

Dean shoved Sam’s face away. “Worried my ass off!”

Sam grappled with Dean’s hands. “You loved it.”

Dean slapped those hands away. “All so you could–what?–get a dick in you?”

“Of course not!” Sam grabbed hold of his face again. “That’s just a perk.” He squeezed his new kegel muscles enticingly. “I just realized you’re it for me. So why can’t we have this too?” He kissed Dean sweetly, which was entirely unfair.

Dean could feel the fight draining out of him, trapped. “And the horn?”

“Permanent,” Sam answered. “Makes me a bit horny though–like, all the time. You like it? I thought, you know, just in case you needed more incentive...” He rolled his hips again. “I went looking for something to help fake a love potion, but uh… I couldn’t resist when I found the horn instead.”

The thought of Sam, sitting with some stupid packet of gold dust, dreaming of growing a pussy so Dean could stick his big fat cock in it-

Dean groaned and his hips pumped; and once he started again he couldn’t stop. Sam gasped and kissed him again.

“You’re mine. You’re mine forever, Dean. I’m never letting you go again.” Sam pulled him in tighter, and murmured in his ear, his long hair tickling Dean’s neck. “Though maybe, if you’re really good, I’ll let you share. Let you fuck me while some one-night-fling rides my cock… show her what it feels like to be skewered on both ends...”

He kept going like that for a long time, filthy promises and heartfelt confessions in quick litany, while Dean slowly pumped what felt like his whole soul into Sam’s tight embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> I tend to just write one-shots, but someone has requested a sequel for this one, aaand I'm a people-pleaser. TBH my immediate reaction was 'what no what would I even -- oh wait I know....'
> 
> So... there's a sequel in the works. Just a heads up! Thanks for reading! :)


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